


Old Love

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Drama, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 00:01:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An old lover comes to see Blair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Love

**Author's Note:**

> Post TSbBS. Many thanks to Dark Cherry for the excellent beta and for answering a bunch of questions. 

## Old Love

by Pink Dragon

Author's disclaimer: They belong to each other. 

* * *

Old Love 

It's late Saturday afternoon. I'm watching the Mariners play a night game against the Yankees. They're in New York, which is a 3-hour time difference, otherwise there wouldn't be anything on but golf, and I'd be zonked out on the sofa napping while Blair does whatever it is he does on that computer of his. 

It's strange, but I love to listen to him when he's on the computer. He makes the funniest damn noises. Little chuckles, or groans, when someone sends him a really good, or a really bad joke. Little 'yeah's of victory when he beats the computer at Minesweeper. He's the only person I know who has actually won at that stupid game. My sweet, gentle Blair, the King of Minesweeper. I smile at that. Then, I hear a new noise. A sharp hiss, almost like he's in pain, and his heartbeat spikes into overdrive. I twist around on the sofa to look at him and say, "Blair? What's wrong?" 

"It's Bram. I've got an e-mail from Bram." He looks over at me, and his eyes are huge and kind of wild. 

"Blair, calm down. Who's Bram?" I ask him, getting up from the couch and walking over to the dining table, and standing next to him with one hand on his shoulder. 

He takes a few deep breaths, and looks up at me like he's trying to decide something. Then his face becomes a mask, no emotion, eyes flat, and he says, "We were lovers," so softly even I have trouble hearing him. Well, shit. 

"Hey, I thought I was your first love," I kid him, and rub my knuckles in his hair. I know I'm not the first person he's loved, I just pray I'm gonna be the last. 

"Aaaw, Jim, man, I'm sorry..." he says. 

"Hey, I'm just kidding, Chief," I say, and kiss the top of his head. "You don't sound too pleased to be hearing from this Bram guy." 

"We didn't exactly part on good terms." 

"What happened? He didn't hurt you did he?" Sentinel instincts are doing a little overdrive of their own, suddenly. 

"No, he didn't hurt me. I hurt him," he says. He closes his eyes, and leans his head against my stomach. I rub his back a little, and just hold him there. 

"So what exactly did you do to this guy, and why is he getting in touch with you?" 

"Well," he sighs, "I broke his heart." Uh oh. 

"I'm not surprised at that. You could break my heart easily enough," I say softly, kidding him, but not much. 

He pulls his head away from my stomach and looks up at me, a sweet smile on his face. "I'll never break your heart, Jim. I love you so much more than I ever loved him.". 

"I love you, too, babe," I say, smiling back down at him. "So what's this guy want, anyway?" 

"He's coming to Cascade. He says he wants to see me. Wants to ask me something." He puts his face back against my stomach. 

"What do you think he wants?" 

"I think he wants to ask me to go back with him," his mouth moving against my stomach. He's gonna get my shirt all wet, I think to myself. 

"Well, shit, Blair. You can't go. We've got season tickets to the ballet." He makes this choking sound and looks up at me with a shit-eating grin on his face. 

"I knew there was a reason I loved you more," he says. 

"So, where's this joker live?" I ask. 

"London," he says, still looking up at me. 

"He's from London?" 

"Well, actually, he's from New York. But after he got his doctorate he got a job offer in London, and he's been there ever since. 

"If he's from New York and lives in London, how in the world did you meet?" He gets up out of the chair, takes my hand and pulls me into the living room, and down next to him on the sofa. 

"It's sort of a strange story." 

"Why doesn't that surprise me, Chief? Have you ever told a story that wasn't strange?" I smile at him, and rub his cheek. He smiles back at me. 

"You haven't heard all my stories yet, so don't pass judgment, man," he kids me back a little, grinning. 

"Shit, you mean there's more?" 

"Just shut up, Jim." 

"Okay, okay. Tell the damn story, I'm getting bored." 

"Well, we can't have that, can we?" He grins at me again, but he looks a little sad. "Bramford Rotherey. Bram, for short. His family is all attorneys, both sides. They pretty much ingrained it into him that he would be, too. And he was. At least for a while. He finished law school, went to work in the family business. But he hated it. What he wanted to do was anthropology. He loved people, studying them, learning about different cultures. His family hated that. It's funny. His family all knew he was gay; he never tried to hide it. They accepted that he was gay, but they hated it that he didn't want to practice law. It was really sad." He pauses for a moment, thinking to himself. 

"So how did you meet?" 

"I'm getting there, man, keep your pants on." 

"Wow, that's the first time you ever said that!" I kid him some more. He rolls his eyes, and looks up at the ceiling, or god, or whatever, and shrugs. 

"We met when he quit the family business, came to Ranier and entered the Anthropology program." 

"Wow, he quit being a lawyer to go back to school?" 

"Yeah. It took a lot of guts for him to go against his family, but he finally did. He was twenty-six when he enrolled, and he got his doctorate in five years. He only had to do the required anthropology undergrad courses, since he already had a degree. That took him two years. Then he had his masters in two more years and his doctorate a year later. We met his last year at Ranier. We started seeing each other and by the end of the year, he'd finished his thesis, been awarded his degree and had a great job offer, in London. He asked me to go with him." 

"Obviously you didn't go." 

"No. I wanted to finish school at Ranier. After all, it has one of the most prestigious anthro programs in the country. I couldn't leave that. And anyway, I guess I just didn't love him enough. He begged me to go with him. Swore he'd never love anyone else. When I told him I couldn't leave Ranier, he said that when I finished my doctorate I could come to London to be with him." He pauses a moment, thinking. 

"Well, what happened?" 

He looks up at me, surprised. "You happened, Jim." Like I should have known. "I found my Sentinel. You needed me. I fell in love with you, and out of love with Bram." Well, shit. 

"What does he want now?" 

"He says he wants to talk to me," he says, his voice full of wonder. 

"He's coming all the way from London to talk? Can't he just call?" I ask him. 

"That's why I think it's something big, Jim. He doesn't want to talk about it on the phone." 

"Well, shit. When's he gonna be here?" 

"Next Friday." 

"He can't stay here," I grouse. 

"You jealous, Jim?" he says, smiling at me a little. 

"If he thinks he's getting what's mine, he's in big trouble, Chief," I tell him. 

"Yours?" he says, eyebrows raised, a little challenge in his voice. 

"Yeah, Darwin. Mine. My Chief. My Guide. My lover. My Blair," I say, nuzzling into his hair, finding his neck and licking him. Getting my smell on him. 

He curls into my arms, wraps around me and says softly, "Yeah, Jim, yours. Always yours." Then he kisses me. 

* * *

"Shit, Jim. I don't know what to wear. Come help me decide." 

It's Friday evening, and Blair is getting ready for his dinner date with Bram. The fucker. Bram, I mean, not Blair. Strangely enough, this whole thing with Bram hasn't bothered me, at least not as much as Blair seems to be thinking it does. He's been so indulgent of me since Saturday when he heard from Bram. There hasn't been one wet towel on the floor all week. It's kind of cute. 

"Just wear something nice, Blair. It's a nice restaurant he's taking you to." I've never taken him there, but you can bet I will now, and soon. 

"I can't decide, man. Come help me." 

Then I figure it out, Blair's quandary, I mean. He's going to a really nice restaurant, which requires that he dress nicely. But he's going with a man other than his lover. He doesn't want me thinking that he's 'dressing up' for another man. I grin to myself and decide to help him out. Besides, I bought him something to wear tonight. I grin some more and start climbing the stairs to the loft and say, "The pale blue silk shirt and navy cashmere pullover sweater, and the navy wool slacks. Black boots," I tell him, standing at the top of the stairs and watching him claw frantically through the closet. I shake my head; he's as bad as Carolyn. "And take off those BVDs and put on some silk boxers." 

He turns around and gapes at me, eyes wide in disbelief. "You not only want me to wear clothes that you bought me for Christmas, you want me to change my underwear?" 

"Well, yeah," I say, reasonably. Then I walk over, take his hand and lead him over in front of the dresser mirror. I stand him there, in front of me, wrap my arms around him and pull him back against my chest. I make him meet my eyes in the mirror, and I put my mouth right next to his ear and whisper, "I want him to look at you tonight, and see what he left behind. He could have stayed with you, Blair, but he left. He gave you up. I want him to see what he missed out on. I want him to see how beautiful you are." He starts blushing and squirming about this time, but I squeeze him tighter and keep talking. "I want your hair soft and loose. I want that blue sweater bringing out the color of your eyes. And I want you thinking of me tonight, thinking of us. I want that silk shirt sliding over your nipples and reminding you of the feel of my mouth on them. I want those silk boxers caressing your cock the way my fingers do. I want you dressed in clothes I bought you. Your mine, Blair, and even though I'm not gonna be there to see it, I want to show you off tonight." 

"Oh, man, that is fucking hot, Jim," he whispers back, eyes wide and beautifully blue. 

"I bought you something," I continue. 

"Huh?" 

"I bought you something to wear tonight," I repeat. 

"You bought me something especially to wear on my date with another man?" He's aghast, mouth hanging open and his eyes bugging out. 

"Yeah, so you'll be thinking about me, about us," I reply, softly, still smiling at him so he knows it's okay, that we're okay. I let go of him and he turns around to face me. I take the small blue velvet box out of my pocket and hold it out to him. He grins and takes it. Opens it up and sees the sapphire stud. 

"Aw, Jim, it's beautiful," he says, looking up at me, his eyes wide and beautiful. 

"Put it on for me, babe," I whisper. 

"You do it," he says back, and holds the box out to me. So I take the small gold hoop out of his ear, thread the stud through his earlobe and screw the back onto it. Then I kiss his ear, right where the earring is. Then I kiss his mouth. He watches me the whole time with his eyes wide, and a little glazed looking. I like it. 

I put my mouth right back against his ear and whisper, "Get dressed, Blair. I wanna watch." I pull away from him slowly, walk over and sit on the edge of the bed. 

With his eyes rarely leaving mine, watching me watch him, he takes off the BVDs, puts on navy blue silk boxers, and the silk shirt and the cashmere sweater and the beautiful wool slacks. Pulls on socks and his black boots and he looks like something out of GQ. I wanna rip all those clothes off him and fuck him stupid. "You need a tie, babe. Get that blue patterned one of mine out of the closet and put in on." 

He goes over to the closet, pulls out the tie, one he bought for me, stands in front of the mirror and ties it, watching my reflection the whole time. He tucks it down under the sweater and turns around, spins like a model, grinning madly at me, and he's gorgeous. Fucking Bram, eat your fucking heart out. 

"How's that look?" he asks. 

"You look good enough to eat, babe," I say, grinning back at him. 

"Well, hold that thought till I get back from dinner, man. You can eat all you want, then," leering at me. 

"Come here, babe." He walks slowly towards me, and I stand up and take him in my arms. He snuggles right into my chest, and looks up at me. "I love you, Blair," I tell him, softly. 

"I know, man. I know," he says back, grinning at me. 

Then it's time for him to leave. He's picking Bram up at his hotel and driving them to the restaurant. I make him take the truck. I don't want to have to come pick up him and his ex-lover when the fucking Volvo dies in the parking lot. He gives me a quick kiss, and his sweetest smile, says, "Love you," and then he's gone. I stand and stare at the door for a long time after he leaves. 

* * *

It's only about a ten-minute drive from the loft to the hotel that Bram is staying in. I spend the whole time thinking about Jim dressing me. Dressing me up. I'm half-hard by the time I get to the hotel. What I want most right now, is to turn the truck around, drive home, and fuck Jim's brains out. 

I park the truck at the front of the hotel. It's a nice one, really nice. Bram wouldn't stay anywhere that wasn't. I remember that about him, he always appreciated really nice things. I walk into the lobby, pick up a house phone and ask for his room. When the phone rings, he answers with "Blair?" sounding happy and excited, and just like he did ten years ago. 

"Bram. Yeah, it's me. I'm here," I say, shit-eating grin firmly in place. It really is good to hear his voice. 

"I'll be right down, Blair. Wait for me in the lobby, okay?" 

"Sure, will do," I say, and I hear him hang up the phone, so I do, too. I go and sit on one of the nice, plush chairs they have in the lobby. One of those kind that swallow you up when you sit down. Man, I could sleep in this chair. In less than a minute Bram is striding across the lobby, a huge grin splitting his face. He looks good. Really good. I get up and meet him halfway, grinning back at him. We stop, right in front of each other, and he opens his arms, and I step into them and he holds me, just like he used to. And just like that, I remember his smell, and the way his body felt against mine, and the tender way he used to touch me. Aw, man, this is gonna be hard. 

"Bram," I say, pulling away far enough to look at him. "It's good to see you, man." 

"Blair, you look wonderful. You haven't changed a bit. Except you're not wearing flannel," he says, smiling, teasing me. He runs his hand over my hair, and I catch myself leaning into his touch. So I pull back, get away from his body, and his hands. 

"You look good too, Bram," I say. And he does. He's small and slender, only a little taller than I am, with dark silky hair, almost black, and deep blue eyes, and skin like porcelain, pale and smooth. He's just as beautiful as he ever was. I smile at him, take his hand, and give it a squeeze. He squeezes mine back. 

We stand there for a few moments, just staring and grinning at each other. Then I finally say, "Let's go, huh? We've got reservations at eight o'clock." 

He smiles, says "Okay, love, lead the way." Oh man, I'd forgotten he used to call me that. 'Love'. I turn toward the door and he puts his hand on the small of my back, just like Jim does, and I gasp. "Blair, I'm sorry..." he says, jerking his hand away. 

"It's okay, Bram, you just startled me bit," I smile back at him. He reaches toward me tentatively, and puts his hand back on me, and I let him. I can feel my skin tingle, where he's touching me. We walk out the door together with him rubbing little circles on my back, just like Jim does. "This way, that's Jim's truck over there. My roommate." I turn and grin at him, and say, "He wouldn't let me drive the Volvo." He breaks out in laughter at that. 

"You're not still driving that damn Volvo are you?" He's laughing, his eyes crinkling up and sparkling, just like they used to. 

"Hey, man, it's a classic!" I tell him, just like I used to. 

"Blair, you haven't changed a bit, have you?" he says softly, smiling at me. 

"Hard to improve on perfection, man," I say, punching him lightly on the arm. 

"Yes, it is," he says, grabbing my wrist and holding it gently. Aw, shit. I let him hold my wrist for a few seconds then I pull away slowly, unlock the passenger side door, and open it for him. He gets in and pulls the door shut, watching me carefully. I walk around the truck and get in the driver's side. 

I fire up the truck, pull out of the parking lot and head toward the restaurant, which is only about two blocks away. "So what did you do today?" I ask him. 

"I met Catherine and Larry for lunch, you remember them?" 

"Yeah, I remember them. Are they still married?" 

"Sure are. They have two kids, a house and a dog." He chuckles and shakes his head. 

"No way, man. Those two anarchists? You've shaken my faith, man. I never thought they'd settle down!" 

"I didn't either, and I don't think they thought they ever would. I guess that's what kids do to you. You stop trying to change the world, and start trying to make a home in it. They seem to be happy," he shakes his head some more and chuckles. 

"Wow, kids, huh?" 

"Yep, a boy and a girl." He sounds tickled about that, and I remember, Bram always loved kids. I pull into an empty space in the parking lot of the restaurant and turn to look at him. "It's really good to be back, Blair," he says softly. 

"It's good to see you, too, Bram," I tell him. We smile at each other for a moment, then both turn to get out of the truck. We head toward the door of the restaurant, his hand resting on my back again. 

He holds the door open for me, and I walk over to the hostess, and say "Reservation for Sandburg? Eight o'clock?" 

"Of course. Right this way, Mr. Sandburg," she says, smiling and turning and swaying gracefully through the tables. She pulls out a chair. I sit down, and Bram sits across from me, and she hands us each a menu. "Would you like a cocktail before dinner?" she asks softly. She's really very lovely, I think to myself, and smile back at her. 

"I'd like a tall gin and tonic, please," I say. 

"I'll have the same," Bram says, smiling at her, too. He was always so nice to waitresses, I remember. I like that about him. 

"Of course," she says. "I'll be right back with your drinks, and your waiter will be with you in a moment." I turn away from her and look around at the dining room. The restaurant is really nice, with the tables spaced far enough apart to give you a feeling of privacy. There are candles and real flowers, and soft music. Bram looks so fucking good in candlelight. I always loved the way it made his dark hair shine, and his eyes sparkle. 

We make small talk for a while, waiting for our drinks. He tells me about his flight from London. Someone had smuggled a very tiny dog onto the plane, and he got loose and ran up and down the aisle, hiking his leg and peeing on each row of seats, dodging stewardesses. He had me laughing hysterically by the end of the story. Poor dog'll probably be in isolation in Customs for a year. God knows what they'll do to the woman that tried to smuggle him in. 

The hostess brings our drinks and we spend a moment glancing at the menu, neither one of us really interested in the food. Then our waiter is there, and he's just as pretty as the hostess and I start to wonder where they got these people. We order, both of us trying not to ogle the waiter, and then we're alone again, smiling at each other across the table. 

"So, Blair," he says. "Tell me about your life." I grin at him and start talking. About Ranier, and my dissertation. Well, the 'Thin Blue Line' one that I had been working on almost from the beginning. The one that got me my doctorate. I had known almost immediately that I'd never be able to publish the Sentinel diss. I just hadn't told Jim that until after my mom threw Jim and me out of the closet, so to speak. 

"Blair?! You're a cop?" he says, stunned. 

"Yeah, man, can you believe it?" 

"Talk about your failed anarchist!" 

"Not failed, Bram, just grown up," I say softly, smiling a little. 

"A cop. Wow." he says, looking at me intently. "So," he says, "Do you wear a uniform?" Getting a little gleam in his eyes. 

I laugh at him and say, "Only at the Police Academy, man. I'm a detective. I wear flannel." 

"Wow, a detective? How'd you manage that?" 

"Well, I'd worked with Jim while I was writing my diss, and since he's been "Cop Of The Year" the last two years, with a near-perfect solve rate, he had some pull with the Chief of Police. Plus our Captain supported it, too, which helped a great deal. We've been very lucky." 

"I'd say," he says, looking at me thoughtfully. 

Just then the waiter brings our dinner and we eat, talking about the food, and Ranier, and friends we have in common. Soon, we're done eating and the waiter takes the plates away and brings us coffee. "So, Bram," I say, "Now you tell me about your life." 

He tells me about working as an anthropologist for the British Museum, traveling the world and studying different cultures. He's writing a book, and he says he'll send me a copy, when it's published. He sounds happy, and I'm glad. The waiter brings our check, refills our coffee cups, and Bram gives him his credit card. We talk about his book for a minute, till the waiter comes back with Bram's receipt. Then I lean back in my seat, and say quietly, "So, Bram, why are you here?" 

He looks at me for a very long moment. "I'm here because I've found someone I might love. But before I let myself fall in love with him, I have to ask you one last time, Blair. Is there any chance for us? Any chance at all? I still love you, Blair. I still want you." And I can see it in his face, in his eyes. He does still love me. 

"Oh, Bram," I whisper. I'm getting tears in my eyes. He always could tug at my heart. "I'm sorry..." I say, shaking my head slowly. And he smiles at me, but it's the saddest smile I've ever seen. 

"I understand, Blair. You found someone else," he says softly. "You found Jim." 

"Yes," I whisper back. 

"I'm sorry, Blair. To have put you through this. It must have been hard for you." 

"No, Bram. It's wonderful to see you again," I say. 

"Blair..." he says, "I'm glad you're happy. I'm happy for you. That you found the right one for you. I'm just so sorry it wasn't me." He takes my hand and squeezes it, then lays it gently back on the table. "I just had to try, one last time." 

"I understand, Bram. I do love you. I always will, man. But Jim? You're right. He's my 'one'." And I can feel my smile lighting up my face when I say this, and I know Bram can see it. "Go fall in love, Bram," I whisper to him. "Go home and fall in love." 

* * *

I drive Bram back to the hotel, and we're both quiet. We both know that it's over, now. I pull up in front of the hotel and turn off the engine. Turn and look at him. 

"Bram?" 

"Yeah, Blair?" 

"Don't ever let him know he isn't your 'one'," I tell him softly. "Do you think you can do that? It would break his heart." 

"I think I have to try, Blair," he whispers back. "Can I kiss you goodbye?" 

I move toward him, and he lays his hand on my cheek. I lay my hand on top of his, and close my eyes as he brushes his mouth over mine. "Goodbye, Blair," he whispers, against my mouth. 

"Goodbye, Bram," I whisper back. And he looks at me for a long, long time, then he pulls away, opens the truck door, and gets out. He leans over, and looks back in the truck at me. 

"I'll always love you, Blair. Nothing will ever change that," he says. 

"I know, Bram." He looks at me for a few moments, then he closes the door, turns, and walks back out of my life. I sit there, alone in the dark, for a long time before I can start the engine and drive home to Jim. 

* * *

I hear Blair's key turning in the lock, and I'm surprised. I wasn't expecting him home this early. It's barely 10:30. I haven't even started listening for him yet. I'm lying on the sofa with a beer, watching the news when he comes in. I pull myself up, turn to look at him and say, "Hey, Chief, you're home early." 

He just looks at me and says, "Yeah." He doesn't look like he had a very good time with Bram. He walks into the bathroom and shuts the door without saying another word. I dial up my hearing, and he's taking off his clothes and folding them. Then I hear water in the sink and in a moment he's brushing his teeth. After a couple minutes of that, he pees, flushes, and turns on the shower, which is strange, cause he just showered before he left. 

I walk over to the bathroom, crack the door open and say, "Hey, you okay, babe?" 

He's already in the shower, but I can hear him sigh, and he says, "Can we talk about it after I get out of the shower?" 

"Sure, babe, whatever you want." I go back out and sit on the sofa and watch some news, listening to him shampooing his hair, which he also did about three hours ago. After he shampoos, he shampoos again, and puts conditioner in his hair and lets it soak while he soaps up and rinses off. Then he soaps up and rinses off again, before rinsing the conditioner out of his hair. By now I'm thinking this is getting pretty weird. 

Finally he's out of the shower, and I can hear him rubbing his hair with a towel and then he says, "Jim, man, would you bring me my robe?" He knows I'll hear him. So I turn off the TV, go upstairs, get a clean pair of boxers and his robe, carry them back down, open the bathroom door and hold them out for him. He's done drying off except for his hair, which is wrapped in a towel, so he takes the boxers, puts them on, then pulls on the robe and ties it. "Would you comb my hair for me?" he asks. This surprises me. He's never asked me to do that. He's let me do it a few times when I wanted to, but he's never asked me to. 

"Sure, babe. Come sit on the sofa, okay?" He nods, picks up the hair dryer and the pick he uses on his hair and follows me quietly out of the bathroom. I sit down on the sofa, spread my knees wide, and he sits on the floor in front of me, with his back to the sofa. He holds the pick up for me, and I take it. I pull the towel off his head and try to squeeze as much water out of his hair as I can. Then I start gently pulling the pick through it one small section at a time. I love doing this. His wet hair wraps around my fingers, and sticks to them as I move them through his curls. He makes little sighing sounds and I smile to myself. He likes this, too. "So, you want to talk about your date?" 

He shrugs and says, "Not much to tell. We had dinner. He asked me to move to London with him. I broke his heart again, and dropped him off at his hotel. That was pretty much it." 

"Oh." That's all I say, cause I know if he wants to talk, he will. And if he doesn't, then I don't want to upset him any more than he already is. I continue combing through his hair till the tangles are all gone, then I get up, plug in the hair dryer, sit back down again and start blowing warm air through his curls. It takes a long time to get his hair good and dry, and he sits there quietly, with his eyes closed the whole time. When I'm finally done, he gets up, smiles at me, picks up the hair dryer, and the towel and the pick and takes them back in the bathroom. He comes out, sits down close to me on the sofa and gives me a little smile. 

"That was nice, Jim. Thanks." 

"I love doing that, you know," I tell him. He grins at me. "Now, tell me why you look so sad." And he sighs and closes his eyes. He'll tell me, now. 

"Seeing him again, it just brought back so many memories. Lots of good ones, but also the bad ones. I'm glad I didn't go to London with him, but it was a very difficult time for me, when he left. I felt so bad, to hurt him like that. To choose Ranier, and my life here, over him." 

"You know, Blair? I think you had it backwards Saturday when you first told me about Bram." He looks over at me and I can see the question in his eyes, but he doesn't say anything. "Babe, you didn't hurt him, he hurt you. You've got it backwards." 

"What do you mean, Jim? I was the one who wouldn't go with him," he says. 

"I mean, that he could have stayed with you, Blair. Did you even talk about that? Him staying in Cascade?" He shakes his head slowly. "See, Blair? He made you the bad guy, because you wouldn't go with him. You wouldn't give up your life for him, and he's made you feel guilty over ever since he left. But there was never even any possibility that he would change his plans, for you." 

"But Jim, he told me that I was the love of his life. That I was the one. The only one he'd ever love." He says this softly, but he's watching me carefully, ready to hear my thoughts. 

"Blair, if he truly believed you were the only one for him, he would have stayed in Cascade with you. He hurt you, made you feel bad, made you feel guilty. He had no right to do that." 

"But he really did love me." 

"I'm sure he did, babe. I'm not saying that he hurt you maliciously, or even consciously. But if there's one thing I've finally learned in my life it's that love is about compromise, and being there for each other. It's about doing what is best for both of you. It's not about setting out mandates and then punishing the other person for not living up to your expectations." 

"I don't think he meant it to be that way." 

"Maybe not, Blair. But I see how sad it's made you to think about him, seeing him again." He makes a little hmmming noise and thinks about that for a moment. 

"Can we go to bed now?" 

"Course, babe. You go on up. I'll check the loft and be right there." Five minutes later I've secured our home to my satisfaction, and I'm undressing and climbing into bed next to him. He curls up next to me, warm and naked, his skin still a little damp from his shower. I roll onto my side so we're facing each other, and he kisses me, slow and tender. 

"Thanks, man," he says. 

"For what, Chief?" 

"For not freaking out about Bram this week." 

"Hey, nothing to freak out about, babe." I stroke his cheek, and he turns his face and kisses my palm. 

"You know, you constantly amaze me, Jim," he says, and smiles at me. 

"What, cause I didn't have a jealous fit over some jerk that didn't know a good thing when he had it?" 

"Well, if you put it that way..." he says. "Will you fuck me, Jim? Please?" he asks. He hardly ever wants that, it's almost always him that fucks me. This has been a very strange evening. Then suddenly, I figure it out. The shower, the teeth brushing, the hair combing, and now fucking. He's trying to get Bram off of him, and trying, maybe not even consciously, to reaffirm our connection. To get my smell back on him, the feel of my hands, and the touch of my mouth. 

"Whatever you want, babe." He rolls over on his back, pulling me on top of him, and we kiss and stroke each other for long minutes. Till we're both hard, and he's making little needy sounds in his throat. 

"Now, Jim. Do it now," he hisses. So I kiss my way down to his nipples, suck and pinch them till he's breathing hard and arching up into my touch. His head is thrown back, all that hair tumbled on the pillow. His hands are on the pillow, on either side of his face, fingers curled into loose fists, eyes closed in pleasure, lips slightly parted, and wet. He's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I move over to get the lube, and when I turn back, he's spread his legs, and opened his eyes, waiting for me. His cock is hard, arching over his stomach, and I stroke my fingers up and down it several times, lightly. He groans deep in his throat; closes his eyes again and spreads his legs even further. Sweet Jesus, I could come just looking at him. 

I squeeze lube out on my fingers, let it warm a few seconds, then I'm pushing one finger inside him and he thrusts up hard against it. "Easy, babe. I'm gonna go slow, it's been a while since we did this. I want to stretch you really well, babe." He whimpers at that, but stills the movement of his hips, and he lets me stretch him while he lies there, pliant and submissive. I love it when he's like this. He's so fucking sweet. 

"Hurry Jim," he finally says. "I really need you inside me, man. Hurry up and fuck me..." he moans. 

When think he's stretched far enough, I slick up my cock with more lube, lots of it, move over him, supporting most of my weight on one hand while I guide my cock inside him. He hisses, and arches his back, his fists tightening, grabbing onto the pillow. "Make me come, right now, man, make me come, then fuck me slow..." he's looking at me a little wild-eyed, and I think I better just give him what he wants, what he thinks he needs, tonight. 

So I settle my weight onto him a little, and he sighs, and I reach one hand between us and wrap it around his cock, trying to stroke him in time to my cock thrusting in his ass. In about thirty seconds he throws his head back, gasps out my name, and comes, long pulses of semen shooting over my hand and his stomach, and mine. I keep stroking his cock till he's soft, then I swirl my fingers through his come, spreading it all over his belly. He watches me with his eyes wide, taking in every move I make, still breathing hard. I keep thrusting into his ass and he whimpers every now and then, but he just watches me, till I bring my come-coated fingers to his mouth, and he licks them clean, never taking his eyes off mine. "What do you want, Blair?" I whisper. 

"Just fuck me for as long as you can, man. Please just keep fucking me..." he whispers. I close my eyes, knowing he's still watching me, and I fuck him, slow and deep, trying to make it last as long as I can. 

He's not touching me, which is good, if he doesn't want me to come immediately. His hands are still lying on the pillow, next to his face. So we lie there, me fucking him slowly, and after several agonizingly blissful minutes, his hands come up and hold my face and he says, "Come for me, Jim." I open my eyes, and he's looking at me with so much love in his eyes. So much love. 

I slide my hands up till I'm holding his. Then I stretch our arms out to the side as far as his will reach, spreading him out on our bed, and I let all my weight fall on him. I burrow my face down into his shoulder, he turns his head away, giving me room, and I open my mouth and bite down on his trapezius muscle, holding him there. And I fuck him hard, pushing him down into the mattress, holding him down, biting him, grunting with the effort of fucking him as hard as I can. He wants to feel it tomorrow, where my cock was in his ass. He wants to remember me, and forget Bram. I want that, too. 

And in less than a minute I'm coming, and I let go of his hands and wrap my arms under and around him as fast as I can, hold him as tight as I can while I come in his ass, my teeth digging into his shoulder. His arms and legs go around me, and he's digging his fingers in my shoulders and hissing, "Bite me, man, bite me harder, fuck me..." So I do, I bite down harder on his shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark for days. "So good, man, so fucking good..." he's stroking my back and shoulders and ass, while I gasp for air, collapsed on top of him. 

After a couple of minutes, I've got my breath back, and my cock has softened and slipped out of him. He gives a little sigh of disappointment when it does. I kiss his neck, over and over, where I bit him. Thank god I didn't break the skin. But it'll be bruised for a few days. I got a little carried away, there. I lift myself up far enough to look at him and he grabs my face and pulls me down and kisses me, hard. Long, and hard and wet. Moaning into my mouth. 

I pull away from his mouth after a minute and press kisses all over his face, whispering, "Mine, mine, mine, mine..." in between each kiss. He finally starts to grin, then he starts to giggle. And I stop kissing his face, and grin back at him. "You good, Blair?" I ask him softly. 

"I am well and thoroughly fucked, man," he says. Then he whispers, "That was just what I needed, Jim. Thank you, man," looking at me with his face full of love. 

"It was entirely my pleasure, Chief," I tease him, and roll over next to him. I've gotta be crushing him. 

He looks down at the sticky come all over his stomach and he says, "Oh, I don't know, it was okay for me too, man," and gives me his best grin. I reach into the nightstand and pull out the baby wipes and clean us both up a little. Then he curls over on his side, facing away from me. But he pulls my arm around him, so I curl up, spooning behind him, tucking his head on my shoulder, under my chin, and throwing one leg over him. He's not going anywhere tonight. "Love you," he whispers. 

"Love you too, babe," I whisper back. 

The next morning he bundles up all the clothes he wore on his date and takes them to the dry cleaners. The last of the 'cleaning-off of Bram'. 

Epilogue: 

Five months later, Blair gets a small package in the mail from London. It has Bram's return address on it. I leave it on the dining table for him. When he gets back from the library he looks at it for a long time before opening it. It's a book. There's a note loose inside the padded envelope. He reads it and lays it on the table, then opens the book and leafs through the first few pages. He reads one page, then closes the book and just holds it for a moment, then he takes the book and the note over and tosses them both in the trashcan. He heads into the bathroom, brushes his teeth, takes a long shower, washes his hair, asks me to comb it out for him. That night he asks me to make love to him. We haven't done that since the night Bram was here. When he falls asleep, I slip out of bed, go downstairs and pull the book and the note out of the trash. The note says, 

'Blair,  
All my love,  
Bram' 

I flip through the first few pages of the book till I come across the page Blair was reading. It says, 

'This book is dedicated to my sweet Blair, who taught me to love, and to my dearest David, who taught me to love again.' 

'Fucker' I say to myself, put the book and the note back in the trashcan. I take the plastic bag out of the can, tie off the top. Sit it by the front door while I go in the bathroom and pull on my robe. I quietly unlock the front door, take the bag out into the hall and toss it down the trash chute, sending a middle finger salute after it. "Fuck you, Bram," I hiss. I turn and walk back into the loft, and Blair is standing at the top of the stairs, arms crossed in front of him, wearing nothing but a smirk. 

"Hi, Jim. Whatcha doin'?" he asks me, in his sweetest voice. The one he talks to little children in. Shit. Busted. 

"Just taking out the trash, Sandburg. You got a problem with that?" I say as I lock the front door again. 

"No problem, Jim," smiling at me now. I'm walking across the loft, then up the stairs. 

"You were asleep," I say, a little sheepishly. 

"I got cold," he answers, reasonably. 

"Oh. Sorry." We climb back in bed, get wrapped back around each other with the blankets pulled up nice and tight. I'm spooned against his back, his head on my arm, my face against his hair. "You threw away a book, Chief. I wouldn't think that would be something you would ever do," I whisper to his hair. 

"It was a symbolic gesture, Jim." 

"Oh," I say. 

"My Blessed Protector..." he whispers, and I can feel his smile against my arm. Then he pats my arm a couple of times, says "Thank you, Jim." 

"What for?" 

"For taking out the trash, man." And I hug him hard, and stroke my hand over his hair while his breathing slows, and in a few minutes he's asleep, and in another few, I am, too. 

* * *

End

 


End file.
